Sir John once more looked around him. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. "At the bottom of that big envelope I found this one. laws alone swamp our small staff. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. We are expecting a visit from Sir John Ferringhall at any moment. Indeed, I've heard him say that, but for his wife, he would shelter her under his own roof. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. ” His shoulders relaxed.
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